


Smutty reader-insert one-shots

by GhostofBeltanesPast



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Blindfolds, Choking, Coitus Interruptus, Exhibitionism, F/M, Femdom, Hair-pulling, Light Dom/sub, Locker Room, M/M, Making Out, Marking, Plus-Size Reader, Rope Bondage, Semi-Public Sex, Vaginal Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:33:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28429335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostofBeltanesPast/pseuds/GhostofBeltanesPast
Summary: Y'all, I don't know how to title things. It's what it says on the tin.
Relationships: Cor Leonis/Reader, Noctis Lucis Caelum/Reader, Nyx Ulric/Reader, Pelna Khara/Nyx Ulric, Pelna Khara/Reader, Regis Lucis Caelum/Reader
Comments: 16
Kudos: 38





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is always your privilege and pleasure to serve your king, in whatever ways he wishes...and King Regis always ensures that it's worth your while.

You've been here for ages, it feels like. Hands on your body, pulling and pushing and grabbing at your soft, chubby form. Playing with you, wringing sounds from your throat as if he were playing an instrument.

" _ Good _ ... _ good girl _ ." His lips brush the shell of your ear as he whispers the words; even that little touch is nearly enough to ruin you completely.

He touches you, firm or gentle, depending on his whims -- but always at his pleasure.

As it should be.

You're here to serve, after all, to offer yourself to your king...and he's generous enough to give you pleasure in return, not that you would ever expect such a thing.

To be on your knees before him, blindfolded with your arms held fast behind your back by the silken-feeling ropes, all clothing removed before you were ever ushered in…

...you're so lucky. There's no other way to say it. The Astrals have favored you, to extend such a blessing.

To have the favor of the king, even in this one way, is more than you could ever have imagined.

His lips trace the line of your shoulder with a shuddering groan; he likes to tease, to test his own patience, you've learned, but he can't hold out forever. His trousers have long since been unfastened to reduce the friction as he grinds his hardness against you.

The thought makes your mouth water. You'd like to take the blindfold off, to turn around in the massive bed and settle between his legs to worship his cock -- after all, who could be more worthy of such attention? You'd spend your life doing nothing else if he let you, and you'd be happy…

He coaxes you back, though, until you settle against his lap. "Lift your hips," he orders. It's second-nature to obey, no thought in your head except immediate compliance.

You want his praise, more than any other reward -- not least because it's so much harder to win.

As he guides you backward with one hand against your thick waist, you sink down, and down, impaling yourself slowly on his cock.

He fills you deliciously; just like every time, the unyielding length of him surprises you, but you take it. Of course you do. You would do anything for your king, without question. It's the most sublime kind of pleasure-pain as your body yields to him, molding to his shape, and you can't get enough of it.

Even though it seems like you won't manage at first, you  _ do _ , finally settling your hips flush against his. You can feel the head of his cock pressed so firmly against your cervix that it aches --  _ oh _ , but what an ache it is.

His hands grip at your hips; it's all the instruction you need to move, your thick thighs working to raise and lower your plump body as you pleasure him with everything you have. Each thrust draws gasps and whines from your throat. You'd like to hold back more, to be as reserved as he is, but...you can't help it. Every time, you give in to the pleasure he draws out of you.

It's hard work, especially with your arms still bound...but you trust him not to let you fall.

You will give him everything he wants, every time, and you will always trust him absolutely. He is your king, after all, and the one thing you crave most is to serve him.  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cor comes home late after a stressful day at work. Thankfully, our reader is eager and willing to help relieve a bit of stress

You know work has been hard lately; new recruits to train, endless paperwork, and of course meetings with the king about national security. It's no surprise to you that Cor's been getting home late, really. You're mostly surprised that he doesn't just sleep in his office -- like Lord Amicitia has been, from what you've heard.

Then again, you suppose Cor has a good reason to make the extra effort.

You sigh and snuggle deeper into the pile of pillows you've nested yourself in. It's not the same as having him here, but it's good enough to doze off in...and he'll be home soon, surely…

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


The touch of rough, warm hands on your body rouses you, drawing you from sleep as you feel someone broad and warm press against your back.

He tugs the sweater you stole from his closet out of the way to kiss along your neck.

"Welcome home," you breathe. You grind your hips back against him, reveling in the feeling of skin on skin -- he's stripped down, and the faintest scent of soap tells you he showered before coming to bed, but it's clear from the erection he grinds against your plush ass that he's plenty happy to work up a sweat all over again.

He hooks a finger through the back of your thong and tugs it roughly to the side.

It's clear that he's not in the mood to take his time, but you're not about to argue. You're already dripping wet, eager to feel him hilted inside you; you're all too happy to let him push you onto your belly and crawl between your legs.

He nudges your plump thighs further apart with his knees, pulling your hips up until he's satisfied…and pauses.

You whine. " _ Please. _ " The word sounds pitiful. If it were anyone else, you'd be embarrassed, hiding your face. But it's  _ Cor _ .

You feel his teeth graze the back of your neck, just a little tease, and you sigh happily.

"That's it…" he murmurs against your skin.

One hand caresses your hip, as his hips push against yours -- he doesn't push in, though, rutting between your thighs.

He bites you again, harder this time. You wonder if it'll leave a mark...you hope it does.

"Do you need it?" He asks, one arm wrapping under your torso to pinch at your nipples, making you jerk and whimper.

You nod, already desperate. " _ Please, _ " you repeat.

He hums. 

For a moment, you think he'll take pity on you, as he shifts and his cock slides along your dripping slit -- but he still doesn't give you what you crave.

You bite your lip.

" _ Cor _ ," you whine, petulance overriding reason, "come  _ on _ . Just fuck me already, will you?"

The hand that had been toying with your nipples wraps around your throat; only a threat, for now, but you know before long you'll feel those thick fingers tighten…

You can't help grinding your hips back against him at the thought.

It gets you what you want, too.

His grip tightens slowly, applying pressure with just as much care as ever, until your breath is coming in short gasps.

As he releases your throat, he finally lines up and pushes into your sopping cunt -- you sob with relief, from the air and  _ finally _ being filled in equal measure.

He sets a punishing pace from the start, using his bulk to drive you into the mattress with each harsh thrust. You moan; this feeling, being helpless underneath him, giving yourself over entirely to him, is so good you can barely stand it.

There's nothing you can do but ride out the sensation, and it's exactly what you've been craving...and not just you, it seems.

He never seems to mind getting handsy or rough with you when you ask him to, but unprompted, it usually means he's had a hell of a day. His teeth graze your neck again, and you shudder. Right on the money.

"Been thinking about this all day."

Gods, you love his voice at any time, that perfect hint of roughness, but there's something about the tension, the audible  _ hunger _ , that drives you absolutely wild. He's not one to lose control of himself, or even relinquish it voluntarily if he can help it, so each tantalizing glimpse of a struggle is one you treasure.

He pushes two fingers into your mouth, pressing them to your tongue and fucking your face with the digits -- it's almost a bit embarrassing how even two of his fingers are large enough to struggle with as he pushes them deeper.

You writhe underneath him, and whimper around the invasion.

He chuckles, low and filthy. "Listen to you, you dirty little thing. So desperate…" And he's right. You know it, and he knows it, and he proves it by pushing his fingers deeper, curling them slightly to make you choke and gag.

You buck, or you'd  _ try _ to, but there's nowhere to go. His broad form is unyielding as he fucks you from behind. Each merciless thrust makes your soft, plump body quake with the force; any complaint you might make is utterly lost, as you manage nothing more than a pitiful keening sound around his fingers.

He sucks a mark at the crux of your neck and shoulder, none too gentle about it.

It's partly for the satisfaction of marking you, you know, but it doesn't hurt that it makes you clench even tighter around him, squeezing on his dick vise-tight. The guttural moan he rewards you with is well-worth the knowing looks you'll get in a high-necked blouse tomorrow.

You're not all that surprised when his hips stutter against yours, faltering for the briefest second before slamming into you, and finally stilling.

You reach behind yourself with one unsteady hand to caress whatever part of him you can reach -- his head, from the close-cropped hair your fingers find…

...and absolutely  _ soaked _ with sweat.

You snatch your hand back with a giggle. " _ Ugh _ , okay, back in the shower with you, mister…"

He huffs, but rolls off of you obediently, standing and stretching out the lingering soreness from yet more exertion after a long day.

You watch appreciatively as you scoot to the edge of the bed, and finally shuck what little clothing you'd been wearing. "Don't worry, lover, I'll keep you company," you purr. The eyebrow waggle may be over-the-top silly, but you  _ do _ manage to earn a grin from him, and that's the point, anyway.

He leads you from the bedroom by the hand, pausing on the threshold just long enough to steal a chaste kiss.

"I'm home."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Although you've been fortunate, those of you who survived the World of Darkness, rebuilding Eos isn't an easy task...and King Noctis has a terrible habit of getting too caught up in work.
> 
> You've come to help him de-stress a bit; if he needs to yield to let the pressure off, you'll ensure that he yields.

"Majesty...you've been overexerting yourself again…"

You nearly purr the words as you slink behind his chair; when he's at his desk, he's generally not to be interrupted, but he's been here all afternoon, barely pausing to eat half the sandwich he was brought.

He certainly hasn't stretched enough, and you can see the fine creases around his eyes deepen as he squints through the pain.

This simply won't do.

You card your fingers through his hair; one smooth motion, and then again, reveling in the way he sighs and leans into the touch…

And the third time, you tighten your grip, using it to pull his head to the side so you can nip at his jaw.

He hisses through his teeth, but allows it. At least for now.

"And what do you think you're doing?" He asks, haughty tone marred by the audible smile. "Touching your king like this...I should have you jailed."

From somewhere behind, you hear Gladiolus snort. He's familiar with these little games by now -- and even joins in, sometimes -- so he knows how empty a threat it is.

You decide to use that, for a change.

Smirking, you sink your teeth into the pale, smooth skin of his neck. The mark won't last long, of course, but you lave it with your tongue just to watch him shiver. "Mm, I doubt you'll do anything...it seems your Shield refuses to act, and without him, what are you?"

He doesn't answer right away; he grips the arms of his chair until his knuckles blanch, seeming to debate a moment before carefully pushing himself upright.

As you expected, his left leg threatens to give way -- for a moment, at least. It's enough to make you hesitate, but he glances briefly in Gladio's direction...and then his eyes are on  _ you _ , blazing with challenge.

He raises his chin slightly.

You step into his space, crowding him back until the backs of his thighs hit the desk. That seems to catch him off guard, from the way his breath catches just a bit; he watches you steadily, though, and you swallow down the urge to yield before him.

Today's not the day for that.   
  
You palm him through his slacks, fingers sliding over the fine woolen material smoothly. “ _ My _ , look how you give way before your subject. Should you allow such familiarity?” Peeking up at him through your lashes, you cup him, firm to the point of discomfort -- just to watch his face twist, to watch him fight it.   
  
As you expected, he grabs your wrist, pulling it away roughly.   
  
“How  _ dare _ you,” he begins-   
  
You push up onto your tippy toes and pull him into a kiss, nudging your chubby thighs between his; the fight he puts up only lasts a few seconds, this time, hands gripping your shoulders as if to push you away...only to pull you closer, arms wrapping around you.   
  
He needs this, sometimes. It’s hard for him to let go -- without a fight, anyway, so many years of being taught never to yield to pressure -- but he needs the comfort of yielding to someone.   
  
His retainers are the ones he trusts the most, and you’re entirely sure he shares plenty of intimacy with them, but you’re the lucky sod he picked to put him in his place now and then.   
  
You have no baggage with him, no history of pain and triumph like his retainers.   
  
And really, who better than his chatelaine? He still won’t take a queen to administer the household, so your duties are all the more important now that Ignis is busy handling diplomacy with the remains of the Empire and Accordo...and since it’s your job to see to logistical matters, it makes sense that you’d handle this, too.   
  
His lips part eagerly for yours, all traces of protest melting away as you lick your way into his mouth and curl your tongue against his. Is it just your imagination, or do you hear the sound of fabric shifting somewhere behind you, as he moans into your mouth?   
  
Well, you don’t mind putting on a show.   
  
Your fingers twine in his hair again, rougher this time, baring his neck as you reach, and…   
  
_ Aha _ .   
  
Your fingers close around the smooth handle of the letter-opener.  _ Perfect _ .   
  
It’s kept almost razor-sharp, to cut neatly through the thick, formal paper that’s once again being produced for state documents; a few threads are no match for it, and it’s easy to slide the blade parallel to his skin, severing each button of his tidy shirt in turn.   
  
You can hear his breathing turn ragged, see the way his chest falls unevenly now -- he likes that hint of danger. If you were a different sort of person, or in the mood for a different sort of game, at least, you might consider threatening him with it…   
  
But you’re already impatient, and you don’t really want to draw this out too much longer.   
  
You drop it back to the desk with a clatter, not caring about the noise. You’ll be making a great deal more in a few minutes, anyway.   
  
And the punched-out groan as you tug his shirt aside with one hand to bare his chest and neck fully...well. You certainly don’t mind that.   
  
You know better than to leave visible marks on your king; he’s not yours to mark in any way others will see, but  _ this _ is yours. The way he arches against you when you graze your teeth over his nipples, pressing his straining cock into your pelvis, that’s  _ yours _ . The love bites you leave along his chest, leaving him coeurl-spotted after your ministrations, those are  _ yours _ .   
  
And the way he whines your name, low and desperate and hungry for your touch -- for your  _ permission _ \-- that is  _ yours _ .   
  
You chuckle, finally releasing him. “Are you going to be good for me now, majesty?”   
  
He only hesitates for a moment before nodding -- you can hear the sound of flesh on flesh and smirk. Yeah, someone’s enjoying the show…   
  
Implicit submission isn’t what you signed up for, though, and you grab him by the chin. “Your  _ words _ . Use them.” Is it just your imagination, or does that prompt the slightest flicker of defiance in those deep blue eyes?   
  
As much as you’d like to stare him down, you know that’s not going to work. He’s spent too many years unlearning any inclination he might have had to yield in a way like that.   
  
You trail your fingers down his neck lightly, instead, letting your neatly-manicured nails rake over his skin  _ just _ enough to leave lines along his always-soft skin.   
  
He gasps.   
  
You can feel how hard he is against you, trying and failing not to rock his hips into your plush body -- and you can’t help but push back, snaking one hand between the two of you to palm at him roughly.   
  
He groans, hands clutching at the edge of the desk.   
  
As soon as he starts to move again, you pull back entirely, leaving scant -- but essential -- inches between your bodies.   
  
It earns you a glare, but he knows you’re at least as stubborn as he is, and much less interested in compromise…   
  
After a few infinite-seeming seconds, he swallows audibly. “ _ Please _ . Give me what I need.”   
  
You consider his request, tilting your head to the side as you regard him.   
  
His jaw clenches, determination warring with desperation.   
  
You glance down and watch him twitch through his trousers; he follows your gaze, and sighs -- and you know you’ve won.   
  
“Please,” he repeats, “take care of me?”   
  
Your heart swells, at the words. All these months, nearly a year, and you still can’t help feeling giddy and breathless when he asks.   
  
For a moment, all games and pretension fall away as you cup his cheeks in your palms. “Of course, majesty.” You murmur the words against his lips, smiling into the kiss that follows.   
  
“It would be my pleasure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever, the next chapter of Returning The Favor is half-finished, I've hit a wall, and decided to finish something _else_ half-done in the hopes that it'll jog something loose.
> 
> In the meantime, though, or if all you're here for are the lewds, I hope you've enjoyed this bit of fun. It was very much inspired by Lady_Kaie and queenhomeslice (sometime last week, I think?), so many thanks to them for that!
> 
> And thank _you_ for reading, and especially for leaving kudos and comments. You don't need to be logged in to do either, and even an emoji or single word in a comment means a great deal. :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader works in the Citadel, and although she's got some casual arrangements, the rumor mills are unforgiving, and she likes to keep private business private.
> 
> It's a shame, then, that Pelna didn't appear to get the memo.

You didn't expect Pelna to be like this -- more than that, you didn't think this would feel so natural when you've barely spoken.

It should be strange, the way his lips slot perfectly against yours, soft but insistent as he teases them apart to slip his tongue into your mouth.

His warm, rough hands frame your cheeks -- his fingers aren't thickened like Nyx's, the joints swollen from years of abuse, as Pelna's obviously been more careful with himself than that -- coaxing your head to tilt slightly, craning your neck back so he can take what he wants.

He kisses languid and clever, lingering just a bit and always pushing his luck but never  _ too _ far. Just enough to guide you right where he wants you, and you don't hesitate to let him.

You part with a gasp, leaning your forehead on his shoulder. "That's not  _ fair _ ," you mutter, already out of breath.

He tangles his fingers into your hair and pulls you into another lazily searching kiss.

It really isn't fair, the way only this much contact can leave you desperate to be touched, grinding your hips into him without thought and moaning into the kiss.

And worse still, although he's straining against his snug uniform pants, he's still so composed and entirely in control of the situation.

...no, he's not composed…

He's  _ smug _ , smirking into the kiss before sinking his teeth into your lower lip to make you buck against him. And if he tightens his grip on your hair while you squirm, well. You're not really going to complain, are you? And he knows it, the bastard, licking his way into your mouth again and swallowing your cries of pleasure.

When he finally lets you up for air again, Pelna drags his lips over your skin, along your jaw and down your neck, mouthing at the sensitive flesh. It's almost too much, the softness of his lips and the scratch of his stubble and his warm, wet  _ tongue _ -

You can't help the keening moan that falls from your lips; you  _ should _ be quiet, you don't really want to get caught fucking against the wall of the locker room. There have already been too many rumors about you and the Glaives and you don't need anyone finding out that even  _ some _ of them are true…

But you can't seem to help yourself, nearly mindless with lust. Each little touch through the day, every 'accidental' brush of his fingers along your arm or thigh -- or occasionally when he felt especially rude, your  _ ass _ \-- has wound you tighter. It was bound to come loose eventually, and damn him, Pelna knew this would happen.

Of course he did. He planned it, after all; for how long, you don't know, can't begin to guess. But plan it he did, every ounce the consummate strategist...and you walked helplessly into his trap even as you saw it coming.

He sucks a mark just under the edge of your jaw as you whine and buck again.

"You're gonna be mine, huh, sweet thing?"

It's rude -- presumptuous, like Libertus, but somehow twice as self-satisfied -- and Astrals help you, you  _ love _ it.

You bite your lip and stare at the row of lockers on the opposite wall, mulling over your options; at least, until he sinks his teeth into the tender flesh of your throat, making your gasp and buck wildly like a fish out of water.

He laves the mark with his tongue, humming under his breath.

He sounds satisfied. 

That won't do. You're not about to give in too easily…

He leans in again. You brace for the bite, for the sharpness of teeth pressed too-hard into thin, fragile skin -- and wait -- and wait -- and yet. Nothing.

Your chest is heaving with each gasped breath; your body burns with desire, of course, but the fear, held in place without knowing what he'll do or when…

He blows a stream of air across your sensitive skin, making you yelp.

The door swings open.

"But why the hell was it  _ locked _ ?" Crowe grouses.

There's a sigh, one you'd know anywhere. "Ah, y'know...probably just the guards playing a prank or something." Nyx huffs. "Might wanna check your locker," he adds, the very picture of solicitude.

He turns to you as Crowe makes a beeline for her locker, and smirks.

_ 'You owe me _ ', he mouths.

Pelna just shrugs and shoots him a wink.

Crowe grumbles under her breath. "Everything's here...I  _ think _ . Don't scare me like that."

You're still barely daring to breathe. Any second now she's going to turn around, surely...

Nyx smirks at you. " _ Well _ ," he drawls, "if that wasn't  _ your _ bra I saw them running up the flagpole earlier…"

The words are barely out of his mouth before she's slammed the locker door shut and stalked back out of the room like a Behemoth with a bad attitude.

He locks the door after her.

You bite your lip as he advances on the two of you, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms over his chest with a casual ease you're sure by now is just an act.

Pelna laughs shortly. "Guess I better thank you now…"

He doesn't step out of your space, still crowding you into the wall, but he releases your hair to reach out and cup Nyx's chin.

Your breath catches.

Pelna leans in, just barely brushing their lips together -- and the door rattles.

You sag against the wall with a sigh.

"Into the shower with you," Nyx orders with an unrepentant grin. "We'll handle this."

For a moment you want to argue, but you can hear Crowe on the other side of the door swearing up a storm in the hallway, and it doesn't sound like she's alone. You're not keen on the idea of hiding in the shower with clothes on, but you like the idea of getting caught even less.

You step into the furthest stall and turn the water on full blast. As you step into the little cubicle carefully, you peek at the two men.

They're already lost to the world, hands tugging at each other's clothes with abandon; Pelna tries and fails to reverse their positions, but if he minds the failure, the way he moans doesn't give any sign of it.

There's a bang that reverberates in the tiled room that makes you jump.

" _ Really _ ?" Crowe sighs. "All that so you could  _ fuck in the locker room? _ I'm  _ wearing _ my bra, dumbass, I don't need one outside work."

It sounds like there are at least three or four others with her, although you're not really sure who -- either way, they harangue the pair against the wall for a minute before you hear someone pad closer.

Your pulse was already racing. Now you're starting to feel almost lightheaded.

You should probably turn yourself in…if they're about to catch you, surely that would be the better thing to do. Maybe you'd at least get a lighter punishment -- if you could force the words from your airless lungs, anyway.

"Looks like the shower's hot."

Pelna says it casually, as if it were nothing notable, but you've heard plenty about him. He's up to something.

Nyx laughs. "Might not be a good moment to be getting in together…"

Predictably, it elicits a chorus of groans (and a few rude comments you know to be jokes); you can hear the others shuffle their way through getting dressed just a  _ bit _ faster, though.

You cover your mouth to stay the building scream as the shower curtain is peeled away -- just enough for Pelna to slip past it. His eyes lock on yours, and somehow you know. You just  _ know _ , he's going to do his best to make this so much harder on you. Maybe it's the wicked, filthy smirk, or maybe it's the way his cock stirs visibly as your eyes trace his lean, scarred body.

Yes, he's going to be trouble.

...at least you  _ also _ know you'll be well-rewarded.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idek what this was. You're welcome tho. lmao


End file.
